A Whale of a Metaphor

Have you ever heard the saying “dreaming is like swimming”?

Waking up from one can feel like a refreshing dip in the pool, the images in your head easing a weight, like water rolling off your skin. The feeling of limitlessness, floating in a space that feels like its own universe, can be incredibly freeing, or like the weight of a different world is on your chest. I wouldn’t know either way. I can neither swim, nor do I know how to dream.

My phone blazes to life for the tenth time this morning, but I simply turn it face down as I pull my blanket closer, sweating under the scrutinising gaze of the sun. In minutes, my mother will join the sun in looking down upon me, and as if on cue, the door bursts open and an imposing figure walks into the room, and gingerly places itself on the foot of the mattress.

‘Jeremy said you don’t need to login today’, my brother says, ‘the client cancelled the session’

‘Let me guess’, my voice comes out hoarser than I expect it to, less cruel than I would like it to, ‘he gave the session to you because you’re the golden guy’

‘Ray…’

I just crawl back under the blanket, retroactively yelling for him to shut the door.

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When I open my eyes once again, I bite back a curse at my mother as the noon sun catches me straight in the eyes. The overwhelming urge to throw my phone at the drapes is only tamped down when I realise the person who opened those drapes will not buy me another phone if this one broke. She seems to think the bustling world outside my window will motivate me somehow, but the only thing the chirping birds and relentless traffic do is piss me off more.

A grunt escapes me as I prop myself up on the pillows behind me, and I rub the itch out of my eyes before grabbing my phone that stays dim even with the natural light blaring down on it. I groan, inching forward to reach the edge of the bed, laying on my stomach as my phone buzzes back to life. Tens of calls and messages, I can’t be bothered to go through them all. My fingers move quickly, typing in an excuse and a lie.

‘Jeremy, I’m so sorry, I’m not feeling great today’

My boss’ reply arrives seconds after I press send.

‘It’s alright Rayna, your brother let us know you’re sick and has agreed to take over your classes for the day. Feel better’

My nose begins to sniffle, and I send my brother a message with just one word. The phone limply falls to the floor as my hands slack off, and I lay there for a while, hanging, glancing under the bed. The inky black seems more profound when I close my eyes, but I don’t dare. Monsters under the bed aren’t real, but I don’t want to give them a chance. The blanket has found its way onto the floor, but just as I grab one end, something in the corner catches my eye. Blue and heavy, it feels out of place in the room engulfed in a golden hue. Placing my palms onto the floor, I push myself forward, leaning further and further into the dark space to get a better look at the mass that continuously stays on the move.

My feet are almost at the edge of the bed, my core stretched to its limits as I try to figure out if it's a vision or my imagination. Desperately, I bring my hand to rub whatever tiredness or tears are still stuck to my eyes, and that’s when my other hand, still on the soft blanket on the smooth floor, gives way.

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My head feels surprisingly weightless as I wake from the tumble, but it's evident the fall caused some damage, considering I can barely sense anything around me, much less myself. Reaching around for something to grab, all I come up with every time is something light and wet, immediately slipping out of my grasp each time I lift it up. Attempting to prop myself up without any support is futile, I lack the strength to do it anyway, but an attempt never hurts. Raising my right hand and the opposite leg, I push down, only for my entire body to be weighed down by the nothingness around me. The more I struggle, the harder it gets to control my movements, the more difficult it is to breathe. Yet, I can do nothing but flail and sink, deeper and deeper.

Drown.

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‘Hey! Hey! Snap out of it!’

The pressure on my throat is released as I let out a massive gasp, just as a huge wave washes over me. I jolt up, coughing out any liquid my body will allow. My nose feels like it's filled with sand, and my head with a hundred rocks.

‘You okay?’, a strange voice questions.

Nodding, I prepare myself to face the nurse or doctor about to yell at me for getting a concussion by falling off the bed, but all I meet is one beady eye. Encompassing me, noir and nerve-wracking, with a single silver star glinting in its shadows.

I know I’m screaming, my mouth is wide open and the single eye has turned into two - and they’re both rolling until the stars are no longer visible. Because in front of me, amidst the pitch black, is a Great Blue Whale, illuminating the universe all on its own. Its colors blend constantly with the surroundings, blue and black and ten other colors that appear as fast as they disappear, but its presence is overwhelming. My brain is having a difficult time processing any of this, leaving just the shallow breath in my throat to catch itself. Huffing and puffing, I feel my eyes dimming again, but before they can completely lull in my head, a second wave washes over me, and I’m left coughing up sand this time.

‘Dude, calm down. What, you’ve never seen a whale before?’

‘You’re talking…’

And as if it can read my thoughts, it says, ‘Don’t you dare faint on me! We only have a little time, let’s talk’

‘What… what are you?’

‘Um, “who”, please. I have a name’, the whale says, giant black eyes rolling, sending me into another wave of nausea. Swallowing, I begin, ‘Sorry. I’m Rayna. And you are?’

‘Mr. Pompous Tumblegard, pleased to meet you!’ he says, opening his jaws wide to reveal what looks like rows of fine tooth combs. Lucky me that those teeth look more like those of a stuffed animal, because my snort and subsequent romp with the ground does not seem to please him.

‘I’m glad you find this funny!’, and I have to clutch my stomach and pinch my tongue to stop myself.

‘So, do I call you Pompous? Or maybe you prefer… Pom-Pom?’

My grin after that quip feels especially evil, but to my surprise, the fine tooth combs appear again. A suspicious feeling that hearing him laugh will definitely put me off-balance settles over me, but that smile suddenly turns a bit straight.

‘What’s going on kid?’, he whispers, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You tell me! I don’t even know what this is’, I say as I take in absolutely nothing, whatever there may be to see, completely obscured by the darkness.

‘You got any problems?’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Just asking’, he puts up his fins, ‘if there’s anything bothering you, you can tell me’.

‘I’m fine, okay?’

‘Kid, no one comes here for a fun vacation. Now tell me what’s going on. What’s the problem?’

I can feel my cheeks heating up, and a loud scoff escapes me. Standing up, I see that I’m ankle deep in water, but my soles feel more like they’re floating on the surface. The gentle waves sometimes reach up to my knees, pushing me off balance but never letting me fall, and no matter how many times I try to dig my heels into what I hope is sand, the next wave comes along to keep me floating. ‘You know what the problem is? That I fell off the bed and am now in the presence of a talking whale!’

He follows up with a gasp and a scoff to rival mine, and I sigh, ‘Sorry, that was mean. I don’t have a problem’

‘You’re sure about that?’

I shake my head, whether it is to get rid of this nightscape or the whale taking up the space, but ultimately relent when his beady eyes narrow to resemble a sliver of the moon. ‘I suppose… work could be better’

‘And?’

‘And? And why am I telling you this?!’

‘Because I’m a talking whale who’ll keep your secrets! Now talk’

The next wave that reaches my knees seemingly dissolves all my bones as I tumble down onto the inexistent ground, but the soft ripples against my clothes and the cold slap of the water help me breathe better. The sound of the waves hitting my back almost emulates a lullaby, until I realise Mr. Pompous is humming a melody and swaying from side to side.

‘Look, Mr. Pom-Pom. My life is pretty shit right now. And as much fun as this is, maybe I’ll just lie down and watch where the waves take me’, I say to the singing whale.

‘That does sound like fun - just let them wash over you and start afresh!’

‘That’s not what I meant’

The last tune out of him still hangs in the air as his eyes scan me up and down, full moon transforming into a crescent and back again, enough times for several years to have passed by. ‘I expected better from you Ray’, is all he says, starting to swim away.

‘Wait! Where are you going?’

I want to scream for him to come back, but I decide to trudge forward instead. Each step I take feels weighed down, and the same waves that once pushed me forward seem to have turned against me. The further I walk, the more violent they become, until a final one, towering over even my new friend who has just abandoned me, crashes down and washes me away.

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‘Fifth time’s the charm huh?’

I don’t even need to open my eyes to fling whatever my palm catches at him, but I’m immediately enveloped in what I think is a fin. A blanket of comfort rolls over me, extremely out of place in the icy waters, but exactly what I need.

‘You were under my bed’

‘You don’t say kid. Took you long enough to find out’, he floats away until I can situate his entire figure against the backdrop. ‘If you’re ready to talk, I’m always listening’

The currents seem to be questioning if they need to wash over me again, but I swallow and take a deep breath. ‘My life sucks okay? My parents don’t believe I’m doing anything with it and my younger brother thinks I’m just not trying hard enough! The work I do is apparently a joke to them, because it is. I barely make any money doing the same thing the baby of the family does. When he does it, it's a career, and I’m the joker’

Mr. Pompous just nods. ‘Each day I spend in that house, I just know they’re looking at me wondering when I’ll leave. The golden boy can stay, but the gargantuan mess has to leave someday because all she does is sit in front of a computer, doing nothing. Even my dreams feel like hell these days. I just stare at the blankness until someone shakes me awake. It’s just easier to have my eyes closed all the time… right?’

The salt water drips down from my cheeks, blending with the froth at my feet. Wiping it away, I find Mr. Pompous glancing at me, wistful smile playing at the corner of his mouth. ‘You know, someone once told me, “Life is only as hard as you let it be”, and as cheesy as I think that is, maybe you should listen to yourself at times. And maybe you should let yourself listen to others at times’

‘That’s… terrible advice, I don’t even know what that means’

He chuckles. ‘Granted, this is the first time we’re actually speaking, but I think I know you pretty well. Listen Rayna. Talk to them, and listen. Or maybe just talk to the whale under the bed, huh?’

A loud, booming laugh resounds from him, and the darkness explodes into a million shards of light.

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My phone buzzes, shaking me awake and letting me fall to the floor with a thud. The screen lights up to show the time at 2:00 pm, and a message from my brother, which I read without opening the chat.

‘You’re welcome :)’

The door slams open as I click off my phone, and my mother rushes to my side. ‘Are you okay love? I heard a loud noise’

‘I’m okay ma, I just dropped my phone’

She exhales and throws me a small smile, before saying, ‘Lunch is ready if you’re hungry. Do you want me to bring it up again?’

She looks exhausted. The lines on her face have deepened and doubled compared to the photo sitting on my windowsill, the one we took just a year ago. They look more pronounced in the photo, just around her eyes though, as she hugs me tight wearing the black cap supposed to be a part of my outfit, while I flash a certificate to the camera. My dad has his hand on my head, lightly ruffling my hair, and though he isn’t in the picture, I can still remember my brother’s face. Laughing, the camera shaking, the reason why there’s a white line running through the photo. All three of them had wanted to frame a better picture, but this was the imperfection I loved.

‘Do you hate me?’, I blurt out.

My mother’s face is frozen for several seconds before she breaks down. ‘Hate you? Rayna, there isn’t a thing I love more in this world than you’

‘But I’m the useless kid! Who does nothing all day but sleep and eat! Who you can’t even bear to look at! Who can’t bear to look any of you in the eye because she is terrified that one day, all that will be left is disgust…’

‘Alright Rayna, you listen to me. Your father and I, we’re definitely concerned, but we will never hate or be disgusted with you. It scares us everyday to watch our daughter walk deeper into a place we can’t reach or understand, but we know you won’t be there long. Because we’re right here to pull you out - if you just say the word. We love you sweetheart, all of us. You just say the word’

I can’t. I just fall into her arms and sob.

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Six months later…

My arms are sore and my stomach hurts every time I move, but my brother says that’s how muscles work, and I choose to trust him, despite the fact that he fed me sand while calling it protein powder. I try not to groan, considering I’m surrounded by people, and I ferociously sip at the glass my coffee was once in. The shaft of light that consistently hits my laptop when I sit in my favorite seat is obstructed by something, and I stare up at the waiter looking to clear my glass and offer him an embarrassed smile.

Looking back down, I grin at the picture on the screen. A seven year old Rayna sits on a brown couch, hands around a Great Blue Whale, with two beady eyes and soft teeth worthy of a plushy. On the black orbs are two stickers to help his eyes feel less lonely. It only felt fair to give him those stars, since he never let me feel lonely, not once.

I shut my sketchbook and place it in my bag, preparing for my next class in around ten minutes. On cue, I receive messages from my entire family, wishing me luck, despite numerous pleas to stop doing so. Smiling despite myself, I begin opening the materials when I receive a fourth message.

‘Ray, I need you to send me the newest draft again’.

Typing out a quick reply to my editor, I begin searching my files for a PDF entitled “A Whale of a Universe”

Before hitting send on the email, I click open the file for a quick scan through, where sketches of an adventurous seven year old and her whale friend cover the pages, until I land on the page I can recall without missing a beat. It was the very first one I completed, and took no more than a minute.

To Mr. Pompous Tumblegard

I still don’t know how to swim, but thank you for getting me to dream again